We Are Gone

In the spring
you may look for us,
but nothing is all you will find,
for we are gone,
traveling the hills westward,
soaring over mountain peeks,
gliding through sunken valleys;

we are gone.

Left behind
with all the recycled trash,
yesterday’s news,
trapped within the hollow strands
of tomorrow’s tragedy,
laboriously flailing along
like forgotten refugees,
displaced by new dreams
and decaying winter filth;

we are gone.

Do not look in hidden summer sanctuaries,
nor behind effervescent nooks and crannies,
the dawn will bring no more questions,
the sky no more answers,
mystery bemoans her children,
destiny awakens from its slumber,
we have become the evening shadows;

all things fade,
all things disappear,
all things end;

we are gone.
.
.